Joffriserys Experiment
by Sacire
Summary: An unlikely bromance blossoms in the afterlife. Post-Purple-Wedding.


He slowly opens his eyes - feeling fuzzy - squinting - head aching - struggling to adjust to the sheer volume of light bombarding him from every direction.

When his vision stabilizes - he sees a pair of purple, beady eyes peering down at him - amidst everything else that is blurry and translucent. He does not recognize her face but can tell that she is smiling warmly at him, which clashes bizarrely with the gaunt, harshness of the rest of her face.

"Wh-what happened?" - he asks the lady standing above him.

He marvels at the silver gleam in her hair as it falls in front of her face - as she leans forward - delicately placing one finger on his lips - to silence him. He shudders - not expecting the touch of her hand to be so - pleasing.

"Shh" - she says - "we'll have plenty of time - in fact, an eternity" - she beams as she slowly says the word - allowing it to marinade on her tongue - "to discuss this after you have regained some of your strength." She pokes his nose with the same finger she just pressed to his lips.

Though not entirely unpleasant, this small action infuriates him. "Don't touch me! I am a king, and you - peasant girl - will treat me as such!"

He watches - in disgust and embarrassment - as she chuckles. She is radiant as she laughs. Gods, what is the matter with him? This unnatural wonderment and warmth - clouding over him - swirling in his chest - tingling in his stomach? It must be the spoiled pie from his wedding feast.

"What is so funny!" - he shouts - overcome with rage. "Laugh at me again, and I'll cut off your head - just like Ned Stark's!" While attempting to sound serious and intimidating, Joffrey cannot conceal the huge grin spreading across his face. He is just so happy for the opportunity to brag about one of his proudest moments. He struggles - in vain - to lift himself onto his elbows - immediately collapsing back onto the cushion underneath him.

"Don't tire yourself, dear. Let me help you." A pail hand stretches down towards him. Joffrey takes it - grudgingly - and pulls himself up - so that he is sitting upright on the bed. "You are not a king anymore."

"What do you mean? The last thing I remember is choking on that disgustingly dry pie at my wedding feast. What happened next?" Joffrey attempts to laugh to disguise his growing fear and discomfort - but it is not very convincing.

"You died, darling." A delicate hand moves to gently stroke his cheek.

Joffrey swats the arm away. "I will not hear this insolence - it is treason! You cannot speak to me this way - I AM A KING! "

"No, you are not, Silly. You are merely a pretty ghost of a king."

"I will have your tongue if you continue to disrespect your majesty."

"You can have my tongue if you want it so badly." A violet eye winks at him.

"I will slice it off and shove it down your throat!"

"You might want to shove something else down with it." The tall lady quickly glances down to his pants and back up.

Joffrey gulps and, upon regaining his composure, shouts - "Ugh that does it! I'm going to call Mother, and she will have you executed. Along with the rest of your kin."

The woman rolls her eyes. "I'm beginning to lose my patience, Joff, and you do not want to see that."

Joffrey makes an exaggerated cackle. "Oh, I'm so scared! What will you do? Smother me to death with your breasts, which are mediocre at best?" Joffrey smirks - confident that he has really hurt her this time.

"Oh, now you've done it - you have just woken the dragon!"

"Woken the dragon? Who do you think you are, lady?"

"I am not a lady! I am Viserys Targargyan; the Third of His Name; King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men; Lord of the Seven Kingdoms; and Protector of the Realm! And you - little shit - will bow down to me!"

Joffrey laughs so hard there are tears in his eyes. "The Beggar King? Ha! More like the Beggar Queen!" Joffrey thinks he is being so clever. "I'm not afraid of you! I hear you died by the weight of the crown you begged for."

"It was actually the heat of the melted gold - not its weight!" - Viserys corrects - crossing his arms in front of his chest and continuing his denial with a furrowed brow. "Besides, I didn't beg for it - I politely requested what was already mine. He promised it to me when I sold him my bitch sister!"

Joffrey blushes slightly - somewhat turned on by the hint of misogyny in Viserys' voice. What is happening to him? He has never felt this way about another man before. Is it possible that he is still drunk from last night?

As if reading his mind, Viserys teases - "at least I wasn't poisoned by the wine I begged for."

Joffrey's face pales as he asks - after a long pause - almost in a whisper - realization finally beginning to sink in - "Wait, so you really are dead?"

"Yes, I am." - Viserys nods - jovially.

"Bu- but - we are conversing. Tha- that's not possible!"

Viserys signs in exasperation. "Gods, you really are as stupid as they say!"

"What people? Who is saying that? I will starve each one of them!" - Joffrey shouts - resolutely.

Silver eyebrows raise in surprise. "I like the way you think, Joffrey, but you're dancing around a truth you can't avoid. You are dead, which is why I can hear you but your mother cannot."

"Where are we, then?"

"That's a very philosophical question."

Joffrey shudders at this. He has always hated the philosophy lessons his parents forced him to take. "Nevermind, forget I asked."

"Suit yourself, handsome." Viserys stands up - slowly turning around to leave the room.

Joffrey frantically looks around - every object - the table, chair, dresser, and lamp - is transparent - barely tangible. "Wait, you can't leave me here!"

"I didn't take you for clingy." Viserys smirks - spinning back to face him.

Joffrey rolls his eyes. "I'm not - this revolting place just gives me the creeps. If Mother saw it, she'd kill the designers - after first torturing them until they peed their pants."

"Oo, your words are so delicious."

Unable to stop himself, Joffrey continues - "she would chain them to the wall and then cut them - deeply - but ever so slowly - with her freshly-sharpened nail file. Their screams would echo throughout the land!"

"Mmm - keep going."

Heart racing, Joffrey decides to play it cool. "Maybe later - if you've earned it." Now, it is Joffrey's turn to wink. He is impressed by his own flirting skills and makes a mental note to thank Jamie for his lessons - as soon as he dies and joins him here. Suddenly, Joffrey is overcome by loneliness - he does not know anyone here who he can brag to.

Once again, Viserys seems to read his mind. "Don't look so glum, dear. It isn't flattering on you. Here" - Viserys extends his hand and continues - "I'll show you around, and - if you're really good - I'll even introduce you to my father, Aerys II."

Joffrey's jaw drops. "The Mad King!" He can hardly contain his excitement.

Viserys nods - beaming - pleased by Joffrey's enthusiasm. The two then leave the room - hand in hand - both palms a little sweaty - a spring in both their steps.


End file.
